


Absolute ‹絕›

by kunshi_sekijou



Category: Original Work
Genre: Analytical conversations, Angst, Drama, M/M, Medical Jargon, One Shot Collection, Original Slash, Slice of Life, Subliminal Philosophical Propositions, beta what beta, 各種故事CP, 看了太多BL小說的結果
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 00:36:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8266228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunshi_sekijou/pseuds/kunshi_sekijou
Summary: Breaking all boundaries, passing all propriety, surpassing all standards---creativity stems from true, absolute desire.Collection of original one shots.[Story 1: Creed][Summary: A reunion leads to revelations and realizations. If similarities existed to abridge distances, he'd never thought himself to be so close to the other."I became a pathologist so I could be the one to dissect you when you expire. No one will understand you better, inside and out, than I will."]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to all those living or attempting to live life.

  
**NOTES:** Forensics pathologist x police investigator. Dark themes. Reads like Asian BL. Immature writing. Plot holes. Unbeta'd.

* * *

  **Creed**

Women claim that men can't multitask like they can.

Shin Revere used to think it to be a rather sexist claim. Until, he found some validity to that claim that day.

It was a mid-October afternoon. The sun already made its way on a westward path to eventually disappear in the horizon. It spread an orange hue across the sky and tops and faces of buildings composing the metropolis smearing them with an autumn tone.

He sat in his office at his desk. A half mug of cold, stale coffee sat in one corner, forgotten. A half-eaten sandwich huddled close by, keeping it company. The hodgepodge of opened manila folders, three-ring binders, and sheets of documents and file packets made the desk seem smaller than it was. Somewhere at one edge of the desk where a few files have been shoved roughly to the side to make space, a laptop perched, its bright screen displaying an incomplete report.

His thick, strong fingers tapped away on the keyboard as his dark eyes followed the cursor on the screen from line to line.

His head cocked to one side. A cellphone sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder.

A series of "uh huh"s and "yeah"s escaped his full lips. From the speed he typed at and the coherence of his sentences, it was evident his replies were only halfhearted, subconscious.

The conversation doomed to be a monologue.

"The weather got cold fast this year. I have a feeling it's going to be a long winter."

"Uh huh."

"Don't forget to tell your landlord about your broken heater. You're going to catch a cold if you sleep without heat. "

"Okay."

"I was cleaning the other day and found some jackets of yours you forgot to take with you. Your old classmate visited. It was a nice coincidence, so I just gave him your contact information and sent him off with your things since he said he was going your way. Such a nice and handsome lad he is.."

"Yeah."

"I think his name was... Now, what was it again?"

He never got to hear it.

A knock at his door interrupted his typing.

The police chief entered with another following behind him.

"Gotta go, ma." He hung up before she could protest and stood from his desk.

The police chief smiled at him and gestured to the newcomer.

"Shin, I want you to meet our new forensics pathologist, Clement Staccarsi." He gestured to him. "Clement, this is our lead investigator, Shin Revere."

He took the chance to examine the other.

He had a full head of slicked back blond hair, contradicting the chief's male pattern baldness. Broad, high forehead. Thin-rimmed glasses, behind which cerulean blue eyes observed him at the same time. Long pointed nose. Wide mouth with thin lips. Pointed chin. Long neck. Long arms and legs. His delicate features made him appear somewhat nerdy. Shin thought he looked rather gaunt, but wasn't sure if it was due to his dark attire. Though, the sun's rays that seeped through the tinted windows lit up his dark attire and made him more lively.

The other held out a hand. Slender, with long fingers and prominent joints, and nails trimmed neatly. "Nice to meet you."

"Hey." He accepted the other's outreached hand with his own. The sharp contrast in temperature startling him. His usual strong grip faltering.

Clement took notice of his unease. "Pardon me. I'm accustomed to handling things lacking in temperature. Scalpels. Needles. Forceps. Cadavers. The cold doesn't bother me, but sometimes I forget that I come into contact with others who do mind it."

He didn't know what made him more uneasy. The other's cold hand, his nonchalant comment, or his reptilian gaze.

"You're quite the tough guy, eh?" His effort at lightening the air between them failed to dismiss the strange chill.

The other smiled enigmatically. "I see you haven't changed much since high school."

"You two know each other?" The chief was as surprised as he was.

"Yes, we attended the same high school, and had classes together." The light in his eyes like fire setting the sea in flames. "Isn't that right, Shin?"

His eyes narrowed then widened as familiarity hit his memory. "Yeah. Clement Staccarsi. It's hard to forget someone with such a special name."

"Right? That's what I thought too. You don't see a lot of given names like his." The older man laughed.

The other cut into their exchange. "Shin, your mother asked me to bring you some things. I'll bring them to you after work. Please remind me if I forget."

He watched him still.

"Thanks. I appreciate you lugging it all the way here." He scratched his head. He couldn't help but feel it rather strange for the other to go through trouble he didn't have to. He wasn't even sure if his friends would have done that for him, let alone someone he hasn't seen for years. "Sorry she made you do that."

"I volunteered." He insisted. "But, if you feel your conscience to be burdened, you can buy me a drink after work."

"Deal." He agreed. It was Friday, anyway.  
...

To prove that he was a man of his words, he sought out the other after work.

When he entered the lab, the other was just drying his hands at the sink.

As fulfillment of his invitation, he offered for them to stop at a nearby pub. Though, he couldn't understand why the other ended up being the one to pay for the tab.

Eventually, the reminder of returning the favor sat in a forgotten corner of his mind.

A few hours later, the two of them sat casually on the side of the curb, outside the crowded pub.

He puffed away at a cigarette. The beers he downed previously finally producing their effects, filling his system with a nice buzz.

"You know, cigarette smoking can lead to a black lung."

"Uh huh." A perfunctory reply. Shin continued to puff away at his cigarette.

"From the amount of cigarettes you smoke, detective, it's highly likely that you'll be gifted with a fully blackened pair of lungs for your 50th birthday. With an added bonus of COPD." Clement pushed up his glasses. "I've performed plenty of autopsies on smokers before. It's not a pretty sight."

Instead of taking offense, he smirked. "At least I know you'll be discouraged from cutting me open. I'm not religious or anything, but I'd like to keep my corpse in one piece. If possible."

The other shook his head with a smile. His gaze never leaving his face, their proximity never widened even when logic cautioned him about the noxious second hand smoke.

"Better black lungs than a black heart." He said. Shin detected some undertones of self-deprecation in his statement. Yet, the other's following declaration parried his inquiry. "Nothing will ever deduct from your appeal in my eyes."

The other's ardent gaze burned him like the hot ash fallen from the tip of his cigarette to his thumb. He waved off the specks along with the sensation. Then he inhaled another fume and raised his head to the sky. He didn't want to meet the other's eyes, nor did he want to cast his gaze to the ground.

The specks of star spread across the navy sky. The crescent moon hung in the center. The stars surrounded the moon like faithful disciples. These stars worshiped the moon like the other admired him. The stars guarded the moon regardless of its inconsistencies and flaws. Just like the other remained attracted to him regardless of his bad habit, and impending black lungs and COPD.

And Shin didn't know until later their exchange that night was the other's bait at luring him into intimacy. He bit it and fell.

...

It must been the warmth of their reunion, the fascination of their conversation, the perfection of the mood. It must have been the alcohol.

The latter provided the best explanation, the easiest excuse, for the clothes littering the floor, their tangled naked bodies, the disheveled bed sheets.

But, no one demanded an explanation. So they simply lied together side-by-side, shoulders brushing under the wrinkled sheets.

"This must feel much like a movie to you."

Shin snorted. "More like fast food. Like the food came out too soon, and you ate it so quickly that your taste buds are left wondering if they tasted any flavor after you're done."

The other chuckled. "Only you can come up with an answer like that."

Shin shifted under the covers, trying to reposition himself so he felt less of the sore in his lower back. He found a comfortable position, only to feel the same stiffness moments later. The stiffness found its way into his muscles the same way the other found him even after the long separation. Persistent bastards.

"So, what really brought you here?" He asked. The form of the question denied all work-related replies.

"You." Came the other's pithy reply. His stare matching in frankness.

"Why me? Honestly, I would have never remembered you if you never showed up."

"You know, having religious beliefs can extend an individual's life."

Shin squinted as if deciphering the direction of traffic on a snowy day.

"I know what you're thinking. But the religion I'm referring to doesn't relate to the worship of gods and deities. I am referring to religion as the thing you cling to when hope slips. Because your life depends on it."

Even as the other faced him as he spoke, Shin felt his point of focus elsewhere. He looked past him to his past.

"The social exchange of people dictates that people who share similarities bond easier and form quick friendships." His voice was as monotonous as the scientific fact he stated. "But what happens when your father is a serial killer like mine? How does one expect to relate to others with this kind of background?"

"You don't need anyone to listen. You don't need anyone to comfort you. They don't understand; they can't understand. Because they've never experienced it for themselves." Shin uttered, as if from the other's mind.

He wondered f their previous physical connection resulted in their mental synchrony.

"While the rest of the boys my age were dealing with raging hormones and getting lucky with the opposite sex, I was dealing with the unknown, lurking in the dark, ready to engulf me at any chance it gets. If I am truly my father's offspring, then I must have chaos encoded in my genes the same way he had it encoded in his. While the rest of the high schoolers struggled with their algebra and arithmetic, I was struggling with the probability, with the chance, that I could become a murderer, a criminal like my father. That I would take pleasure in evoking catastrophe, and drink in the suffering of others. The 50% probability was unacceptable. Even the 5% possibility I eventually calculated after including all variables proved to be unsatisfying. It was a grueling mathematical problem. And it was less grueling when I saw you attempting the same equation."

"In which I gave up eventually and submitted a blank paper."

"The same blank paper you gave me when I asked for your contact info."

Shin shrugged. "It's kinda weird being asked that on the day of graduation from a classmate you've never really spoken to, who you're pretty sure you're never going to see again after graduation."

"You didn't want anything to do with your high school. A form of escape, I presume."

"I didn't really leave much back there. There were too many cliques, and I didn't belong to any of them."

"You didn't leave anything there, because you didn't open yourself up."

"Neither did you." He returned. "Even to me, when you had plenty of chances to."

"People facing similar travails are attracted to each other. Ironically, they also repel each other. It just so happens that I was more attracted to you, while you were more inclined to avoiding me." He slipped closer to him. His breath brushing his lips in the proximity. "Or maybe, you were attracted to me too. But your gut probably told you to run, to flee. Unfortunately, I still found you. You guided me here, like religion guides its believers."

His dulcet voice, a predator's lullaby.

Unaffected, Shin asked. "So, why were you so obdurate about finding me?"

"I wanted to ask you, how did you find the will to become part of law enforcement even with the knowledge that your father was a criminal?"

"What's my dad got to do with me? I know I got his blood, his genes, but it doesn't mean I'm him entirely. It's not like he reproduced me asexually. Anyway, him being a criminal doesn't automatically guarantee his son to be one too. Just like, being an A student in high school doesn't automatically mean you're going to succeed in life." He raised an eyebrow at him. "Plus, you ended up fine, too, didn't you? Our criminal background check system is top-notch, so I know you haven't been going around killing people or committing heists."

"Love is all you need." The other pronounced.

And the way the other watched him then, with absolute innocence, free from lust and darkness from before, Shin thought, if virtuous and benevolent are what people are normally, then perhaps they aren't asking for much when they pray to their deities. They're just asking to be normal.

He saw the same wish when the other looked at him.

...  
"There are moments that you should be glad I'm the forensics pathologist assigned to you investigation team."

Shin peered over to him. The smoke of his cigarette became a curtain of ambiguity falling between them. He didn't have a clear view of the expression he had on his face, maybe due to the smoke. He thinks it can be defined as mischief from the lift at the corners of his lips. But the solemnness of his stare, denied all mirth.

He could have waited till the smoke lifted. Though, even if the smoke clear, even if he examined the other under the daylight, the other would still be an enigma. Something he'll never learn, never know to read.

The other reached out and caressed his tan skin with fingers as cold as the season he was born. The other was obsessed with detail. He wouldn't be a reputable pathologist if he wasn't.

"If ever you expire, at least your body won't be explored by foreign hands. I'm the only one who could imprint marks like these upon your skin." Clement traced the spread of violet red spots on his chest. They spotted him like a leopard. "I'm the only one who can admire them."

He didn't know if it was the nature of his work, or simply the other's nature that ran deep like the marrow in his bones, that he spoke of death commonly. On a daily basis.

At the initiation of their intimacy, from when they became from former classmates, to present colleagues to their current relationship now, the death the other spoke about intertwined with him.

He spoke of him when he spoke of death.

Psychology said that people tended to make associations between things they loved.

When he spoke of death to him, it was as if he made declarations of love. There's no doubt if anyone else had been the other's lover he would have found it more disturbing, more morbid, than romantic.

Infatuation was a mental anomaly. Maybe that was the only explanation to his over-attachment to his work, to him.

"Whenever I hear you talk like that," Shin coughed up a few chuckles. "I can't help but get this mental image of you wearing a black tuxedo, and dancing with my skeleton."

The other's eyes glowed in amusement.

But of course, they knew, if he really became a skeleton, he would no longer have the opportunity to see the other in a tux.

As fulfillment to his little fantasy, they dressed up as tuxedo mask and his skeleton lover to their department Halloween costume party that year.

...

Trouble was like that unwelcome relative nobody wanted to invite to a holiday dinner.

And like that unwelcome relative, trouble always finds a way into people's lives when they least expect it.

Being in the criminal justice field means taking risks. Every investigation, every task, like rolling dice. You never knew when you'd be betting your life.

Shin's lucky number is 7. It's a rather common lucky number. Though, after that day, after seven years of being part of law enforcement and running 57 investigations, and being injured 17 times, it was the closest he's ever come. To dying.

Out of desperation, the perpetrator he had been pursuing through a rundown building fired a shot that had spiraled into his left chest.

He lost all consciousness.

When he awoke three days later post-op, he was in the intensive care unit with lines and drains coming out of him, going into him.

His partner sat at his bedside.

"I will admit, I'm a bit upset." The other glared at the blood seeping through the layers of gauze on his chest.

He raised an eyebrow. Normally, he would inquire him. But the massive hemorrhage and subsequent hypovolemic shock made his consciousness cloudy. The combination of fatigue, medications and injury weighed down on him. And his non-rebreather mask was in the way.

Shin didn't ask about his upset until a week later.

"As much as I know about your body, its exact anatomy, physiology, composition, I still miscalculated the distance between your heart and sternum."

"Oh, I thought you're upset I'm still alive. You won't be able to dissect me yet."

"That, too." He agreed after he paused to think.

"Would you like to take the opportunity to recalculate that distance and finish what the perpetrator didn't have the chance to finish?" He must have been cohabiting with him for too long. Sarcasm never lept from his lips so naturally.

The way the other continued glaring at his healing bullet wound put him under the illusion that he had set fire to the area. That what seeped from his wound was no longer blood, but molten lava.

"I would. There's nothing in the world I desire more than that right now. I'll bury my four inch pocket knife into your chest, a quarter of an inch to the left of your wound, in the fourth intercostal space. Your death won't be too painful especially since your analgesics haven't worn off yet. Then, I'll finally enforce the one wish of dissecting you, separating your adipose tissue, your every muscle fiber, dig out your veins and arteries. I'll open you up and carve out your each and individual organ. Eventually, when I'm done, I'll bury you in the soil, in my family's graveyard. But I'll preserve your heart in formaldehyde."The other spoke as if recounting, putting into words the vivid image he conjured up mentally. Then, as if forgetting a detail, he added. "I'll never wash my pocket knife. Your blood will stain it, until the vibrant red fades to brown, and the enzymes of your blood eventually rust the metal of my knife."

When he looks into the other's eyes, he thought he'd go blind because they were so bright. But he looked on adamantly.

"Then, what are you waiting for?" He dared.

As if his invitation brought him back from his fantasy, the other drew in a breath. His quicken breaths steadied. He blinked. The dark tsunami suffused in his eyes before, cleared. And he said. "I have much work to do. I could only imagine the amount of body bags littering the hallway to my office."

He turned to walk away as if he became from his most precious specimen to the remnants of road kill. The other hated road kill because it lacked beauty, lacked mystery. The cause of death stares right at you like the victims' guts. The best death, the ultimate one, consisted of one that drew no blood, and created no imperfection, no insult to the physical body.

He watched him stop at the door.

"One day, if I ever get the opportunity to dissect you, I'll do so and then I'll end my own life."

His shoes clicked down the hall.

The words the other left him with served as a reminder that his pain killers were due.

He pressed the call button for the nurse.

...

A few days later, after the case closed, a certain piece of evidence vanished quietly from the evidence storage room.

No one knew of its disappearance.

Until he caught sight of the glistening item hanging from a silver chain around the other's neck. The V-neck sweater the other wore, an intention for exhibition.

"You're tampering with the evidence." He admonished, brows furrowing in disapproval.

The other only smiled and lifted the pendant with slender fingers and brought it up to his lips. As sincere as a pious devotee clutching a rosary. "This bullet pierced the layers of your skin, drilled through your rib, tore your pericardium, and caressed your heart. It accomplished what I've always wanted to accomplish without killing you. Possessing this is the only way to comfort me of my failure."

The other's declaration heated his blood, and it pulsated from valve to valve.

Glaring, he turned and cast, "Just don't let anyone see you with it."

He left the other grinning at his retreating figure.


End file.
